


Not a Feather Out of Place

by isabeau25



Series: A Wing and a Prayer [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Wing AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 22:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12067815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabeau25/pseuds/isabeau25
Summary: Shiro needs some help preening his wings, but it’s often times easier said then done.





	Not a Feather Out of Place

**Author's Note:**

> I could have sworn I already posted this here, but apparently not. Based on these [head canons](http://swordandquill.tumblr.com/tagged/wing-au).

“You missed a feather.”

“I did not!” Keith huffed.

His wings flared slightly behind him, fluffing up a bit with his annoyance. Shiro shifted his wing to make it easier for Keith to work on, not quite hiding the way the corners of his mouth quirked up as he glanced at Lance. From his perch on the back of the couch behind Shiro, Keith couldn’t see his face anyway.

Lance smiled back slyly.

“Here,” Lance dipped a soft washcloth in the bowl of warm water sitting on the coffee table, then held it out to Keith, “rub this over the sheaths that are ready to shed. Gently. It will help loosen them so they come off easier.”

Keith scowled, but snatched the washcloth from Lance. Despite his irritation, his touch was light on Shiro’s wing, as if it were impossibly fragile instead of strong enough to knock a man unconscious with a flick.

“I never use a washcloth on my wings,” Keith grumbled.

“That’s why your feathers are so dull,” Lance stretched his own wings out to their full length before folding them neatly along his back.

Lance did have glossy wings, there was no denying that.

“They’re not dull,” Keith protested, carefully using the washcloth to pull away the sheath from a new feather, then running his fingers over it to smooth the edges, “not everyone wastes hours of their day preening their wings.”

“Well, that would explain why you keep missing feathers,” Lance flopped over on the couch.

“I’m not missing feathers!” Keith’s wings flared out.

“You’re doing fine, Keith,” Shiro reached back to pat his knee.

Keith grumbled, but went back to concentrating. He really had preened other people’s wings before, including Shiro’s, but not very often, and that had been before Kerberos. The Galra had left Shiro’s feathers a mess, and Keith really didn’t want to make them worse or hurt him.

“Well, at least Shiro isn’t wiggling the way Pidge does,” Lance hooked his legs over the back of the couch and let his head hang over the edge, spreading his wings out over the cushions.

The tip of one wing just barely brushed Shiro’s leg, and he reached down absently to pluck off a loose down feather.

“There’s no reason she can’t preen her own wings,” Keith’s wings finally relaxed, “I always preened my own wings.”

“She could,” Lance shrugged, “but she doesn’t. It’s a wonder she can fly at all.”

“She does seem to miss spots,” Shiro agreed, shifting his wing slightly under Keith’s hands and tucking the other one more tightly to his back.

Keith froze, but Shiro patted his knee again, a sign that he could keep going.

“The twins are easier to preen then she is, and there are two of them,” Lance threw his hands in the air in exasperation, “it’s like I’m trying to kill her instead of keep her wings healthy enough to fly.”

“What twins?” Keith asked absently.

“My little sisters,” Lance waved his hand dismissively, “they’re eleven now, but when they were little, I used to have to pin them down with my legs around their waist to keep them still long enough to preen them, and the other one always tried to sit on my head while I was doing it.”

“That’s where you learned to do that,” Shiro grinned, “I was wondering.”

“They didn’t screech the way Pidge does, at least,” Lance huffed, “she’s going to make us all go deaf one of these days.”

“Um… I don’t…” Keith frowned at Shiro’s wing, “I’m not sure what to do with this.”

Shiro turned to look, but he couldn’t see the area of his wing Keith was looking at. Keith touched a feather and a shutter ran down Shiro’s back, causing him to flare both wings just a little.

“Sorry,” Keith pulled his hands away hastily.

“It didn’t hurt,” Shiro reassured him, folding both wings tight along his back, “it just felt strange.”

“Let me see,” Lance righted himself, popping up to sit on the back of the couch next to Keith.

Shiro spread his wing for them again, somewhat more hesitant then before. Lance sat on his hands to remind himself not to touch. The Galra had been brutal with Shiro’s wings, and even though they were healed, he was still hyper sensitive to people touching them. They were so big, though, and he was molting so heavily right now to get rid of the damaged feathers, that he needed help preening them.

He had known Keith the longest, and that seemed to help him stay calmer when his wings were being handled.

“Right there,” Keith pointed without touching.

“Oh,” Lance fidgeted a bit, really wanting to just take care of it himself, but he didn’t, “that’s just a compounded feather. That happens sometimes when feathers are really damaged. You just need to pull it.”

“Won’t that hurt?” Keith frowned.

“A little,” Lance shrugged, then freed his hands to point to another feather, “there’s another one there. It hurts more to leave them in. They won’t shed on their own and new feathers that try to grow in behind them won’t grow right.”

“Shiro?” Keith asked.

“Go head and pull them both,” Shiro’s shoulders hunched, “then I think we’re done for a while. We can go grab some food goo. I’m getting hungry.”

“If you’re hungry for food goo, then you must be starving,” Lance dropped back into his original spot.

“I just pull them?” Keith fretted, “like fast, or should I do it slow?”

“I don’t think it matters as long as you don’t break them,” Lance shrugged, “my older brother and I used to get compound feathers all the time from rough housing. We always did it fast.”

“Don’t worry so much, Keith,” Shiro smiled back at him, although his shoulders remained tense, “just go head and pull them.”

Keith hesitantly grabbed the feather, then pulled. Shiro flinched and tightened his grip on the edge of the couch, but didn’t pull away. Keith smoothed his hand over the spot, making worried little coos.

“How have you never had any compound feathers?” Lance asked.

“I don’t know,” Keith frowned, still fussing over the spot and the feathers around it, “I always pull my feathers right away if they get damaged.”

“That sounds painful,” Lance wrinkled his nose.

“It’s not like I can use them,” Keith grabbed the second feather, but waited for Shiro to nod before pulling it.

Shiro drew in a sharp breath when Keith pulled it out and couldn’t stop his wings from twitching.

Keith cooed at him again, his hand fisting around the broken feather to stop himself from reaching out to touch the wing again, “okay?”

“Yeah,” Shiro folded his wings snuggly against his back, “thanks for taking care of it.”

Keith looked like he really wanted to reach out and smooth down Shiro’s wings just one more time, but he folded his arms across his chest instead, “any time.”

“So now can we eat?” Lance jumped up to his feet.

“Yep,” Shiro stood, stretching his arms over his head.

“Is there anything besides food goo?” Keith slid off the back of the couch to stand.

“Hunk showed me how to make those pancakes we had a couple days ago,” Lance offered.

“Yes, please,” Keith said quickly.

Shiro laughed, draping an arm over each of their shoulders, “lead the way, then.”

They both leaned into him, more pleased about having managed to get through preening so much of Shiro’s wing without him becoming upset then they were about the prospect of pancakes.

But the pancakes were pretty good too.


End file.
